Sacrificing My Love For You

Sacrificing My Love For You


Across the bay, Doctor Owen Harper, fell to his knees, in his living room of his apartment. He clutched a hand to his chest, as he doubled over, and his eyes glowed bright gold. His agony filled screams echoed around the silent apartment.

Less then five minutes later, the pain ceased, and the golden glow faded from Owen’s eyes. He closed his eyes tightly, as he breathed heavily, still clutching his hand to his chest, rocking back and forth on his knees.

The apartment was silent, all except for the loud and strained breaths Owen took in. Soon Owen passed out, just like Tosh had. He slumped forward on the carpet.

It was seven am, six hours after he had passed out from the pain, that Owen was woken by the sunlight reflecting in from the window on the opposite side of the large room.

He blinked groggily, and moaned at how stiff he felt. He turned over onto his back, wincing at how cold and stiff the surface he was lying on was. He frowned as he squinted.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was relieved to discover he was in his apartment. As he started to become fully awake, he realised he was on his living room floor. He wondered how he had ended up there.

He knew he hadn’t been drunk the night before; he hadn’t been in such a state in over three years. So that ruled that scenario out immediately. He slowly got to his feet, staggering slightly as he did.

He placed a hand upon his chest, and rubbed close to where his heart was located, and froze; as he felt distinctive warmth, warmth he had no felt in over three years.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and more then a little fear, as he realised he could feel his heart beating. He startled, when he suddenly felt a warm tingling sensation run through his chest, followed by his hand.

He lifted his hand up, and felt the colour drain from his face, as he watched the large cut cross his palm heal completely, without leaving a scar. He continued to watched, as his broken fingers started to knit back, until they were perfectly straight again.

He quickly ran to the bathroom and looked into the large cabinet mirror, before quickly unbuttoning his shirt. He watched in fascinated horror, as the gunshot wound healed completely, without leaving a single scar.

He frowned, as he placed two fingers upon his inner wrist, where a plus is usually located. He concentrated, and felt his eyes bug, as he felt the steady beat of his pulse.

And finally he looked down, and watched as his cheat rose and fell steadily with each breath he took, before leaning forwards and breathing heavily on the mirror. He watched in astonishment, as the glass fogged up from his warm breath.

He was far too stunned to fully process the situation. All he did know is that he was apparently alive again, and in full working order. But what bothered him, was how he healed. That was not human, not in the least. The only other person, whom he had ever seen healed themselves like that, was Jack.

He needed to get to the hub, but first he needed a shower. He could smell the reek of sweat coming off of him in waves. Apparently he had sweated in the night, meaning he now how body heat once again.

He also felt an almost desperate urge for coffee and a bacon sandwich. He would deal with that on the way to work. He knew that he would have to take it easy for a while, in less make himself ill, having not eaten or drank anything in over three years, after all.